


Hi, My Name is Cecil

by punkrockgaia



Series: Eternity!Vale [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: AA, Alcoholism, Child abuse/neglect, Coffee, M/M, Mental Illness, Promiscuity, Recovery, Sex Addiction, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:56:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockgaia/pseuds/punkrockgaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil goes to a meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohwhatamess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwhatamess/gifts).



> This fic is set in my Eternity!Vale universe, which I introduced in my fic Eternity. If you're confused, I suggest you read that one. Let me know if I've gotten anything wrong with this! Thank you so much to ohwhatamess/shessuchamess for all your help and support!

Cecil stomped around the cozy little kitchen, opening each cupboard, poking his head inside, and slamming the door shut. He made a complete circuit, then made another one. Finally, he slammed his hands down on the countertop and shouted toward the bathroom. 

"Earl? EARRRRL!"

The bathroom door swung open and a cloud of steam escaped. It was followed shortly by Earl's head, hair mussed from recent toweling, shaving cream on half his face.

"Yeah, Cee?"

"Have you happened to see the vanilla extract anywhere?"

"What do you need it for?"

Cecil clenched his fists and his teeth. "I. Am making. Cupcakes."

"Ohhhh... Well, no, I haven't seen it, no. Maybe you used it all, huh?" As he spoke, Earl's boyish, freckled face blazed a bright scarlet.

Cecil grunted. Earl was a terrible liar. "Oh, yes, or maybe the LARGE BOTTLE I BOUGHT AT THE PIGGLY WIGGLY YESTERDAY JUST EVAPORATED! Cut the crap, Harlan. I know you hid it."

Earl sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "Yeah, I did."

"And I just bet I can guess why. You don't trust me." He screwed up his face and folded his arms over his chest. 

"Cee, I..." 

"Don't fucking lie to me." 

"Cecil, come here." Earl gestured to Cecil, who reluctantly shuffled into the bathroom. When he reached Earl, the redhead folded him into his arms. Cecil squirmed out of his embrace.

"Yuck, you're getting shaving cream on my shirt."

"It'll wash off. Sit down, let me explain, okay?"

"Where, on the toilet?"

"Close the damn lid and sit down." Earl's voice was suddenly stern. Cecil looked at him for a beat, then closed the lid on the toilet seat and sat down on it. "Cecil, do you have any idea how you've been acting lately?"

Cecil crossed his arms over his chest. "Like someone who wants to bake some goddamn cupcakes for his niece?"

"No. Well, yes, but -- No. You've been... moody. One minute you're giddy and dancing around, the next minute you're biting my head off over little things."

"Well, if you wouldn't do annoying shit..."

"Mmm-hmm. Oh, and when you haven't been snapping at me, you've been pawing at me."

Cecil rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm _so sorry._ Most people, I don't know, _enjoy_ it when their partners show sexual interest in them."

"Cecil." Earl's voice was somewhat distorted as he pulled the skin of his face this way and that to catch errant whiskers. "I love it when you come on to me because you love me. I love it when you come on to me because you're horny. I love it when you come on to me because you're bored, or you're lonely, or you were watching the news and the hot weather guy was on. What I **don't** love is when you come on to me because you want to distract yourself because you don't want to feel anything!"

"I -- But --"

"Shh, Cee. I'm talking now. And yesterday, at dinner, you were swishing the ice cubes around in your lemonade like you used to do with bourbon."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"And then you go and you buy the **largest** possible bottle of vanilla extract, and the kind that's made with alcohol, too."

"It's cheaper by the ounce! Money's been tight, you know that."

Earl finished shaving and wiped the excess lather off his face. He squatted down so that he was level with Cecil and put his hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes.

"When was the last time you went to a meeting?"

Cecil shifted uncomfortably and avoided his gaze. "It's been, you know, a while... Josie's been laid up with gout."

"Oh, so you can't go unless your sponsor's there to hold your hand? I must have missed that one."

"Noooo, but..." Cecil's eyes darted away from Earl's. "I don't need to go all that often, you know? I've got two years."

"You _almost_ have two years. And anniversaries are dangerous."

"Pfft."

"Why are you avoiding this?"

Cecil didn't answer for a moment. When he did, his voice was quiet. "I dunno. I'm just tired of it. I'm tired of working on it. I just want to be normal."

Earl laughed. "Cecil, you've never been normal, drinking or no. But that's why I love you." He kissed his forehead. "So go to a meeting. You'll feel better."

Cecil sighed. He knew that he'd never be able to change Earl's mind once he made it up. He was so stubborn, but really, that was one of the things that a Scoutmaster was. "Okay, okay. I'll go tomorrow."

Earl shook his head and stood from his crouch, then took Cecil's hands, pulling him up from the toilet seat. "Nope. You'll go tonight."

Cecil glanced at his watch. "Oh, darn, and look at that. The meeting's gonna be over in 20 minutes. So by the time I get my shirt changed, and I get in the car, and I get there, it'll be over. No point, really! Now dig up the vanilla extract so that I can get baking."

"Oh, Baby Doll, you're in luck! You can totally go to a meeting tonight, because I happen to know that there's one at eight o'clock in Pikeville."

"I won't know anybody there!"

"And here I thought the 'Anonymous' part meant that you didn't have to know anyone." He put his arms around Cecil and squeezed. "You'll be fine, Cee. You talk to people for a living. Remember, you're only as sick as your secrets."

"Wow, maybe you should be the alcoholic. You're clearly better at it than me."

"Nah, I'm already good at too many things." He slapped Cecil on the butt. "Now go get your shirt changed so we can leave."

"We?"

"Yeah, I'm driving you."

"Earl. I swear to _God_ I'll go to the meeting. You don't have to escort me there."

Earl grinned. "I know. I need to go shopping. I'm out of doe urine."

Cecil made a face. "Ew. Is there a meeting that'll cure you of being a redneck hick?"

"I'd have to want to change, wouldn't I? Now quit yer yappin' and let's get dressed."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather just stay home and screw?"

" _Ceese._ "

Cecil knew when he was defeated. He did as Earl said and got dressed, and within a few minutes the two of them were sitting in the cab of Earl's truck. They drove through the dusk in silence, eventually pulling up outside a church a few several towns over. Earl looked around to make sure no one was watching, then leaned across the bench seat and kissed Cecil on the cheek. 

"Okay, Babe. Have fun at your meeting. I'll be back in an hour."

"Yeah. Fun. Have fun in Hick Heaven or wherever the hell one goes to purchase large-mammal piss."

"I love you, too, Ceese. Now get going." 

Cecil shot him one last withering look, then descended from the cab and into slouched his way into the church basement.


	2. Chapter 2

Cecil walked into cinderblock room and breathed deeply. Coffee and stale smoke. Ah, he might not be at his usual meeting, but it sure smelled like it. He walked over to the urns, grabbed a styrofoam cup of black coffee and a cheap aluminum ashtray and installed himself in the corner. He lit a cigarette and sipped the strong, acidic coffee and prepared to speak to no one. Try as he might, he just couldn't make his husband understand that he wasn't really all that outgoing. Oh, well. Earl could maybe make him _go_ to the meeting, but he couldn't make him participate. He cringed when he saw the friendly woman coming towards him. 

"Hi, I'm Lauren. I'm the chairperson tonight," she said, reaching a hand out to him.

"Cecil." Cecil took her hand and shook it briefly, then returned to his coffee and cigarette, turning slightly away to indicate that he was done talking. Apparently, though, Lauren was not fluent in body language. She continued.

"Hi, Cecil. Glad to have you here. We haven't seen you around before! Are you new?"

Cecil stopped slumping and raised his shoulders to his full height. "No, _actually_. I have two years. Well, almost. I'm from Night Vale, so this isn't exactly my usual meeting." 

Lauren smiled with delight. "Two years? That's wonderful. I just got my five year chip."

"Oh. How nice for you."

"Thank you." She looked thoughtful for a moment, then grabbed his arm. "Hey, I don't know if you know this, but this is a speaker meeting. Would you mind speaking tonight? I realize this is totally short notice."

Cecil grimaced. He didn't like speaking at his regular meeting, much less in a room full of strangers. "Well, I don't know, I don't have anything prepared..."

"Please? We have a bunch of newbies lately, and some of them are really shaky. I think it would help if they could see that it's possible to be sober for two years. I could speak, but you remember how it was. Five years might as well be a hundred. I don't think it helps as much, you know?"

Cecil sighed and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes. As much as he wanted to argue, he knew she was right. Of course, he could always still say no, but... "Ugh. All right. But don't expect much, okay?"

"Just tell them the truth, and you'll be fine. Thank you. You have a beautiful voice, by the way." 

She clapped him on the shoulder and wheeled away to go greet someone else. Cecil considered slipping out the door while she was distracted, but before he could, the meeting was being called to order. He could barely pay attention to anything. The twelve traditions were a blur, as well as the guidelines, although he did notice that Lauren had been telling the truth -- there were a crapload of new people there. The woman sitting two seats down from him was sweating and shaking. He smiled at her sympathetically. He remembered those days. Then Lauren was saying his name, saying that he was coming up on his two-year chip. He walked up to the cheap particle-board podium in the front of the the room, squeezed his eyes shut, and took a deep breath. Then he spoke.

"Hi, my name's Cecil, and I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Cecil," the group singsonged back. He waved a small wave, and someone in the back chuckled. He bit his lip, thinking of what to say. Then he spotted a door (or at the very least a carelessly-unlocked window) into his story, so he began.

"My mother saw visions. And I've found over the years that you can tell a lot about a person by whether they think that she saw visions because she was sick, or whether what she saw made her sick. I have my own opinions, but they tend to change depending on whether I've been watching Dr. Phil or the X-Files. Anyway, she saw visions, and they kept her from doing anything else, like day-to-day things.

"Her visions were mostly of the End Times, real blood-and-brimstone stuff. Every once in a while, a local congregation would hear about her, and they'd kinda adopt us for a while, bring us food and clothes and all that and we'd be high on the hog. And then Jesus would speak to Momma over the PA at the K-Mart, and he'd tell her that the pastor was noodling his secretary or stealing from the poor box, and we'd find ourselves uninvited from attending services and with a distinct lack of casseroles and layered desserts and youth camp t-shirts. But it was okay. We never went hungry for too long. People are good. They provide for those that need it, even if they don't have much themselves.

"Anyway, there was my mother, my sister, my brother, and me in a double-wide out in the middle of the woods. No dad -- we're not sure if we all have the same one or not. My sister's six years older than me -- I'm the youngest -- and I asked her once, and she said she can remember a few gentleman callers here and there, but no one who stuck around for long and no one she can remember clearly. So, it was just us. My sister's really smart, the smartest of all of us. She's smart, and she's driven, and she's always done what she needs to do to better herself. My brother was angry. It's almost like he was born pissed off, pardon my language. He and Momma didn't get along. And I was... Well, I guess I was happy. At least that's how I remember it. I loved my Momma with all my heart, I loved my brother and sister to a lesser extent, I loved my godmother, and I loved my best friend. He was great. He lived out in the woods, too, but in a normal house with a father and real toys and everything, but he never treated me like I was weird or like he felt sorry for me. I didn't realize what a gift that was at the time.

"So I was a happy kid, right? I mean, I knew that things weren't normal, but nothing's perfect. But as time went on, it got less and less perfect. Sadie graduated high school and went away to college; she didn't come back much. Simon got angrier, if that was even possible. And Momma got worse. She'd run off into the woods for days at a time. She decided she was the Angel of Judgement and started to make lists of the saved and the damned. I didn't ever look to see what list I was on. Then there was the time The Lord told her that our trailer was an affront unto Him, so she set the kitchen trash on fire. Thank goodness I was home to put it out, because she was planning on sitting inside of it as it burned to see if she was the Holy Spirit.

"In the end, I don't know what pushed her over the edge. It seemed like business as usual, but, uh..." He paused. This part was still so hard. "But, uh, one day she hanged herself in the bathroom. My brother's the one that found her. He... he took it bad." He chuckled a little. "I mean, how could he take it well? But he really lost his shi-- er, stuff. He screamed and cried and trashed the trailer, and it wasn't until then that I realized he had loved her, too. He ran away from home on the day of the funeral. Last I heard, he was living under a bridge in Louisville. I hope he's okay.

"I stayed with my best friend's family for a little while, though honestly I don't remember much of that. I guess I went to classes and ate and showered and breathed and all that stuff, but it's all a blur. Then my sister dropped out of school and moved back home so that I could come live with her.

"I was fifteen, and she was twenty-one. She tried not to be resentful, but I'm not _quite_ as dumb as I look, and I knew that she'd given up her dream of becoming an accountant -- we dream big in our family -- to come home to play babysitter. Anyway, she was twenty-one, and she wanted to have a life, just like anyone her age, so she had parties.

"Let me stop a minute here to tell you that Sadie has never been drunk a day in her life. She's waaaaaay too tight-assed, sorry, to do something like that, which is her struggle, not mine. But seriously, on her twenty-first birthday, she had half a glass of Riunite. If she's really wild, she'll have a whole glass. So the parties were more about hanging out with people her own age, and less about getting wasted.

"But not all of her friends were the same. She knew some serious party animals, and some of them thought it was hi-larious to get the teenager sloshed. Now, I'm not blaming them, mind. No one held a gun to my head, I was perfectly capable of saying no and going back to my room to re-read Lord of the Rings, you know? But I didn't. I was curious and I hurt inside so much that I felt like I was going to rip apart. And the first time I had a drink, I knew I'd found my life's work." There was a smattering of knowing laughter from the assembled crowd.

"So yeah, I was really good at drinking. Before long, I could drink any of her friends under the table. But then again, I got a lot of practice. It's easy to improve when you're not distracted by piddly little things like homework and friends. I forged my sister's signature and dropped out of school.

"Around the same time, I discovered something else I was really good at. Sex. Sex was awesome. Drinking was awesome. Sex and drinking together were _totally_ awesome. I had sex with people I cared about, I had sex with people I didn't care about. Drinking made it so there wasn't much of a difference, anyway. And if I felt bad in the morning? I knew a quick fix. A few drinks and it was lather, rinse, repeat.

"My sister tried as best as she could, but she realized there was no way she could control me, and she had her own life to try to save, so she pawned me off on my godmother.

"Now, let me tell you right now that my godmother is a very upstanding lady. A church lady, as a matter of fact. Her house looks like an angel exploded. She's a church lady, and, when I moved in with her, a closet drunk. She never said anything about it, and she was _really_ good at hiding it, but we can always pick out a potential drinking buddy in the middle of a crowd, can't we? It took me less than a week to find the jug of sherry she had hidden in the washing machine, and less than two hours to drink it. She found me passed out on the floor of the laundry room, and then she and I had a talk.

"Here's where our perception of events diverge. We both agree that she said that if I was going to drink, I might as well drink at home, but she couldn't afford to support two habits on her pension, so I was going to have to get a job. We don't agree as to the wisdom of that conversation. Josie still feels horrible about it. She's apologized over and over for basically giving me permission to drink, and yeah, maybe that was bad. But honestly, by that time I was already an alcoholic, and by making me earn my keep she forced me to get a job. I had no particular ambitions at this point -- all I wanted to do was drink and get laid and frankly, if I were being honest, I didn't honestly expect to make it to adulthood anyway. But if that was the only way I could get booze, well, then, I suddenly began to see the benefits of gainful employment. After I slept off the sherry, I walked downtown and put my name in everywhere. The only place that called me back was the radio station.

"I started right at the bottom, emptying the trash and sweeping the floor. Eventually, they trusted me to make photocopies, and more importantly, the coffee. I didn't love getting up with a rip-roaring hangover and going into work, but as time went on I found I loved the station. Leonard Burton, who was my first boss, treated me really well and started to drop hints that maybe someday I could take over for him. With his encouragement and Josie's, I got my GED and enrolled in community college. 

"After I graduated, I moved out of my godmother's house and into my own place, and I felt like I was actually on my way somewhere. I read the newscasts and filled in for Leonard if he was sick or on vacation, and my career was going really well.

"Of course, my personal life was still a wreck. I was drinking as much as ever, and you'd be surprised at how much indiscriminate sex you can have in a small town. I'm not a religious man, but it's seriously a miracle that I never caught anything more serious than a case of the crabs. And through all this, my sister, my best friend, and my godmother stood by my side.

"And then my godmother betrayed me -- she got sober. As I said, my sister is too uptight to ever do anything to excess other than work, and my best friend didn't care much about drinking one way or another, but Josie? Josie was the one that made me feel okay about my drinking. She was the one that told me that it was normal. And then all of a sudden she was going to these stupid meetings and apologizing for letting me drink when I was young and ordering club soda with lime instead of vodka tonics and telling me how good she felt, and well, I'm ashamed to say it, but I just stopped talking to her. I wasn't mean, I didn't tell her off, I just didn't return her calls. And she got the hint and we didn't talk for years.

"Around this time, Sadie did the only unplanned thing that she's ever done. She got pregnant by the guy she was dating. The guy didn't stick around, but like I said, my sister's determined and smart and strong, and she had a beautiful little girl and started raising her by herself, and I was smitten. I loved hanging around and doing dad things, even if half the time I was buzzed or hungover. I was a mess, but I wanted to make sure that my niece had all the toys and all the love and all the stuff that I'd grown up without. And it was fff-- really awesome. 

"And then when my niece was about three, my sister decided she'd been alone long enough and started dating again. One of the guys she started seeing was this ex-jock jerk she'd barely spoken to in high school. Of course, they hit it off instantly."

Cecil frowned. "Let me go on the record as saying that I will never be the president of my brother-in-law's fanclub. He's boring, he's tacky, and he's annoying. That being said, he's not a horrible guy. He and my sister got together, and pretty soon they got married, and then he had the nerve to want to actually be a parent to his stepdaughter. I did not care for this turn of events. _I_ was the father figure in Janice's life. I was hurt, but of course I didn't say that to anyone. That would have been too easy. I fell back on my usual strategy of drinking heavily and sleeping around and life went on. I obviously didn't have a problem -- I was still working and functioning, and I'd never gotten a DUI. I just knew how to have a good time, right?

"Throughout all this, incidentally, my best friend hung in there for me." Cecil paused. He was leaving some stuff out, but... "He would DD for me, he didn't hang up on me when I drunk-dialed him, he helped me get cleaned up when I got sick. He never told me that there was anything wrong with me. He was too loyal.

"Years went by. I tried to cut down from time to time, but then I'd have a bad day or someone would cut me off in traffic, or I'd get soup on my tie, and well, what other possible response could I have but to pour myself a glass of bourbon or ten? I mean, it wasn't like I was some kind of derelict or something. I was a radio professional! By that time, Leonard had retired and I took his place. Yeah, I might could have done a better job, but I never went on the air drunk." Cecil pointed at the audience. "That's still a point of pride for me, by the way. Sure, there were days that I had to go to a prerecorded segment so that I could lose my lunch into the trashcan, and I'm sure I didn't always smell too pretty, but I held it together.

"I wasn't so good about hiding my real self from my family, though. I'd have really good intentions when I went to family functions, but somehow or another I'd always end up wasted. When I'd get wasted, I'd fight with my brother-in-law. My sister tried to tell me to knock it off, but I didn't listen. After a while, everything came to a head, as it always does.

"It was my niece's eighth birthday party, and I was feeling pretty damn good about myself. See, she was into this show, Pretty Pink Pony Princess. I'd gone out to the toy store and gotten her the Pretty Pony Carriage and Auto Shop. I knew she'd love it. 

"I had a couple of beers before the cake, but nothing excessive, especially not for someone with my tolerance. My sister was giving me the side-eye, and I was going to prove to her that I had everything under control. We sang happy birthday and ate cake -- well, I didn't, because cake and beer are kinda revolting, I just had beer -- and then Janice opened her presents. She loved my gift, just like I thought she would.

"f Then she opened the one from her stepfather. It was the Pretty Pony Palace. Seriously. That thing was sold out everywhere in a three-county area. I should know, 'cause I'd tried to find one. I still have no idea where Steve managed to get it. Janice lost her _mother lovin' mind._ She squealed and jumped up and down and called Steve "Daddy" and told him that it was her favorite present. Her favorite. I just -- ugh, it's so stupid in retrospect, but I felt so worthless at that moment. Sadie and Steve were occupied with opening up the box for Janice, so I slipped into the kitchen, found one of those 32-ounce cups that you get from McDonalds or whatever, and I filled it with ice and Wild Turkey.

"I don't remember much after that. I woke up the next morning on my sister's lawn with a black eye and my sister standing over me, squirting me in the face with a garden hose. She filled me in. Apparently, I'd picked a fight with Steve, and it had gone from shouting to shoving, and in the scuffle both the Auto Shop and the Palace had gotten crushed. And then Steve had hauled off and punched me in the face, which I totally deserved, and my niece had cried herself to sleep. 

"My sister told me to get my act together or never speak to her again, and she didn't care much which one. I still remember her saying 'I won't have my child grow up thinking that crazy is normal, and she's never crying over you again.' You might think I had a response to that, or maybe you understand. Anyway, all I wanted was to drive myself home, but my sister wouldn't give me my keys. In retrospect, that was really smart, since I was definitely still over the legal limit. She said she didn't care what happened to me, but she couldn't trust me to wrap my car around a tree and not around some playground equipment. She brought the phone out to me, and I called my best friend, and he came and picked me up. 

"We were on the ride back to my apartment when I started to get the shakes. I knew that nothing fun was going to come after that, so I asked him to stop at the store on the way so that I could get something to drink. And then he told me something he'd never said to me in all the years I'd known him. He said no.

"At first I thought I'd misunderstood, so I asked again. And he repeated himself. He said he'd take me home, but if I wanted to drink, I'd have to do it under my own steam. He said he was sick of helping me kill myself. 

"I wasn't very nice. I cursed at him and told him that he was a bad friend and called him names that I won't repeat in a church basement. And the whole time he just looked straight ahead and kept driving. When we got to my apartment, he stopped the truck and let me out, and I told him I never wanted to see him again. He said 'whatever you want, Cecil,' then he drove off.

"I watched him go and flipped him the bird as he went. Everyone thought I had a drinking problem? Well, fine, I'd show them a drinking problem. I walked to the store and bought two of the biggest, cheapest bottles of whiskey they had and a bag of pork rinds, sat myself down in front of the T.V., and set to drinking.

"I woke up in the hospital in four-point restraints and Josie sitting by my bed. I felt worse than I have ever felt in my life. Apparently I'd managed to drink myself into a nice case of pancreatitis, had pulled out two IVs and a catheter, and had kicked a nurse in stomach, hence the restraints. Oh, and a week had passed that I had no knowledge of whatsoever. They'd done tests and found that my liver was a few drinks shy of becoming a doorstop, and I had a choice to make if I didn't want to end up in a coffin before I was 35. It was a difficult decision. I took my time on it, let me tell you.

"After a while, though, Josie was able to convince me to at least give maybe not being a drunken bastard a try. I got out of the hospital and went with her to my first meeting, and I sat there like some of you, and I refused to believe a single word the speaker said, but that night I went home and I didn't have a drink. And Josie called me and made sure I didn't have a drink, and that made it easier.

"And I didn't have a drink the next morning. And Josie dragged me to another meeting. And slowly I started to do the steps, kicking and complaining the whole time. I got to step eight -- making a list of the people I'd harmed with my drinking, and man, that was a long list. I thought it was the hardest thing I'd ever done. Well, until I got to step nine, and I actually had to make amends to those people.

"I went to see my sister and brother-in-law and niece, and, well, the adults were understandably leery, but, oh my God, my niece still loved me! I just..." (He stopped for a minute to get in control of himself, he hated to tear up in front of strangers.) "I can't overstate how much that meant. Seriously, that kid... I don't know if I would have made it through those first few months if it hadn't been for her unconditional love. I made amends to Josie for blowing her off when she first got sober. And I made amends to my best friend."

He paused and looked down at the peeling veneer of the podium. He had to make a decision on the fly. On the one hand, they had to be careful, but on the other, maybe someone in the audience needed to hear this... Well, hey, it was anonymous, and he'd been very careful not to say Earl's name... Yup. This was happening. He looked back up.

"I'm sorry, I haven't been honest with you. My best friend? Yeah, he was my best friend, but he was more than that. We'd shared a bed off and on for years." He quickly averted his gaze. He didn't need to know which of the people in the audience were wrinkling their noses in disgust or rolling their eyes at the fag. The people back home had known him and Earl all their lives and were actually really cool about things, but Kentucky was still Kentucky. He continued, staring at a spot in the back of the room. "And I knew he loved me. And I loved him, too, but I couldn't handle it. So I used him. I called him up when I wanted a warm body and dropped him like a rock when I didn't. And so I had _so much_ to make amends for.

"I was terrified when I came over to his house. I mean, I wouldn't have blamed him if he'd tossed me out on my ear. But, uh... He didn't. He listened to me, and when I was done he gave me a big hug. Then he asked me out for a drink. Then he got REALLY embarrassed and asked me out for coffee instead. And I said yes, and we went.

"We started having coffee regularly, and we got to talking, really talking for the first time in years. And one of the things we talked about was AA, particularly the advice that Josie, who's my sponsor now, had given me. She said not to get involved with anyone for a full year after I started getting sober. Actually, what she said was 'Damnit, keep it in your pants for a year, Cecil,' but the point still stands. And it was good advice -- I didn't need any distractions. So for almost a year we sat and we drank gallons of coffee and pounds of pastries and we talked and we spent loads of time together, and the day after I got my one-year chip, he asked me out to dinner and a movie. Three months later we moved in together, and two months after that we had a cute little ceremony in our backyard. Sure, we don't have a piece of paper from the state, but believe me, he's my husband. And he's my rock. And he's a huge pain in the ass who made me come to this meeting tonight. I love him more than I could ever say."

He glanced at the clock and saw it was time to wrap stuff up. "But, hey, this is a meeting, not The Dating Game. I'm coming up on two years now, and staying sober is the hardest thing I've ever done. And it's still not a done deal -- just yesterday I bought myself a big ol' bottle of vanilla extract, the kind in an alcohol suspension? And I really was going to make cupcakes, for real, but can I say that I didn't think of maybe taking a nip? No. So I think when I get home, I'm gonna pour it down the drain. And then run a LOT of water down after it. The beans are better, anyhow.

"So, yeah, it's hard. And it's still hard, but it gets easier. And it's absolutely the best thing I've ever done. And not because I have a wonderful man in my life now, but because I'm finally getting to know myself, and I'm not as bad as I'd feared. Because I wake up in the morning with a clear head. Because my sister can trust me to pick my niece up from school. Because my brother-in-law can call me a jackass, but he can't call me a lush. Because I don't have to worry that the person I'm interviewing can smell last night's bender on my breath. All those things. The hunky guy is just a bonus." He grinned.

"Anyway, thanks for letting me speak. I wish you all luck." He sat down to scattered applause, feeling raw and vulnerable, but pretty good, too. And then the meeting was over and people were milling around and drinking coffee and he was edging his way out the door. Earl was waiting in the parking lot, engine idling. He smiled as Cecil climbed into the cab.

"How did it go?"

"It went okay. I spoke."

"Hey! Way to go!" He gave Cecil a huge one-armed hug and then put the truck into gear. "So, it's a beautiful night and we're in the big city. What do you want to do?"

"Well, what I _want_ to do is find a honky-tonk with Patsy Cline on the jukebox and order a rare cheeseburger, fries and a cold beer, most likely followed by a dozen more and a bottle of Old Crow. What I _should_ do is throw my cigarettes out the window and become a vegan. What I'll _settle_ for is chain-smoking and drive-through, as long as it includes a chocolate shake."

Earl smiled over at him, looking pleased with himself. "I have a different idea... What about we check into the Holiday Inn, and we'll order room service and I'll draw you a bubble bath, then give you a full-body massage. And you know I mean **full-body.** "

"Mmmm, that sounds like heaven. But can we afford it?"

"Sure. Don't worry, we can splurge a little. And there's more. I found this really fancy massage oil that heats up when you use it. I got it while you were in your meeting."

"Oh, you sacrificed your doe urine? It's like 'Gift of the Magi'!"

"Naw, I went to Wal-Mart. They had both!" 

"Just don't get the bottles messed up, all right?"

"Don't worry, I'm the only buck who's gonna be in rut tonight."

"Charming." They drove on in silence for a moment, then Cecil spoke again. "Earl? I'm sorry I was a jerk earlier. I'm so lucky to have you. I'm the luckiest guy in the world."

"Huh-uh. _I'm_ the luckiest guy in the world." 

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah! Fishing lures were on clearance for 50% off!" 

Cecil punched him in the shoulder. "God, you're a romantic." He grinned. "Aw, well, whisk me away and ravish me, my Redneck Prince."

"Sure thing, Cee Cee. I'm proud of you, you know."

"Thanks, that means a lot."

"And I love you."

"I love you, too, Early Bird." Cecil rested his head on Earl's shoulder, barely daring to believe that life could be so wonderful.


End file.
